


Masquerade

by TigereyesF



Category: Thranduil - Fandom
Genre: Consensual Sex, Drunk Thranduil, Emotional Thranduil, F/M, Revelations, Smutty One-Shot, Thranduil Love, Thranduil Lust, Thranduil Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15573531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigereyesF/pseuds/TigereyesF
Summary: Thranduil is not looking forward to the upcoming feast and Masquerade ball, and drowns his desires and emotions in wine as the event approaches. Seeing an elleth who reminds him of the one he loves but cannot have, he decides that a substitute will have to be sufficient - it is a masquerade after all. A hot night of passion and sex follow, until he breaks down and admits through his drunken haze who it is he has fallen in love with.The next morning brings a harsh reality, as he puts two and two together and discovers just who spent the previous night in his bed.





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> A pervy one-shot that popped out of nowhere.

**_ MASQUERADE _ **

**__ **

The entire palace was a flurry of activity. Groups of elves hurried to and fro, their arms full as they tended to their allocated tasks and chores. Servants scurried out of the way of Lords and Ladies as they traipsed through, and guards stepped aside so as not to impede the servants. Maids fussed and fluttered, while housekeepers became a blur as they moved from one place to the next. Kitchen staff and waiters darted between the constant stream of bodies, taking care not to drop or spill any of their wares.

Thranduil watched with bored eyes.

“My Lord, this promises to be a truly magnificent feast,” the ellon beside him remarked, his voice dripping with admiration for his King.

He grunted. “I see it as being no different from the many others we have had, and will have in the future,” he remarked. “This one is not particularly special.”

“Well, being that we are blessed with a full moon this night, and this is also a masquerade ball, anything can happen,” the ellon chirped. “I have some high hopes myself.”

Thranduil merely lifted one eyebrow, irritated at the blatant adoration the ellon insisted on lavishing him with. The one thing he didn’t need was more taggers-on, more adoring worshippers, and more ridiculous staff hanging on to his tail trying to impress him.

“I am sure a good time will be had by all,” he said dryly, taking a sip of the strong red wine he held.

“Oh definitely, my Lord,” the ellon replied. “Everyone is pulling out the stops and making extraordinary efforts to ensure this is a ball to be remembered. Have you selected what you wish to wear this night?”

The King nodded. “Yes.”

The ellon continued to babble at his side, following as he turned with a swish of his cloak and strode towards the doors of the hall. Mentally closing him and his incessant nonsense out, he focused on the wine that made a deep-seated warmth infuse itself into his bones. His powerful gait took him through the hallways and corridors towards his private library, where he needed time alone to unwind and get the twittering annoyance that followed him out of his hair.

“That will be all, Farbion,” he said, coming to a sudden stop and whirling round.

The elf came to a skidding halt. “Very good, my Lord,” he said, and turning on his heel, walked rapidly away in the direction they had come from.

Thranduil sighed, and let himself into the library. The cool air in the room immediately soothed him, settling his ruffled feathers and easing his mind. Being surrounded by spineless, mindless elves who strove to prove themselves in his eyes was tiring him out. Elves who shaped their entire presentation to what they thought he wanted; styled their reports to what they thought he wished to hear; delivered their service in such a way as to flatter their King.

Thranduil was sick and tired of it. Tired of all the false pretence, the fake smiles and greetings, the over-done gestures designed to place their givers in his good grace. He hated false acts.

False emotions.

False people.

His thoughts turned to his most loyal and trusted assistant, the only one who saw him for what he was, and who treated him the way he wanted to be treated.

Akira.

She didn’t pander to him. She didn’t fawn over him. She didn’t try to impress him.

She told things the way they were, and to hell if he was displeased at her delivery. She called him out on things that she didn’t agree with, challenged him on decisions nobody would have dared question him on. She rationalised the impossible, did the unthinkable, and spoke her mind freely.

She had wormed her way into his heart and soul a long, long time past.

He sighed, gazing out of the window over the forests of his lands. A million trees stretched out before his eyes, covering the lands to the horizon and beyond. Drawing strength from nature, he ran a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath.

She hadn’t said whether she would be attending the feast or not. He had asked her earlier that morning, but his question had been lost in the swirl of activity going on around them. Knowing she would be there would lift a massive proportion of the tension that rested on his shoulders, but he didn’t know if she would be present or not.

Perhaps, given the amount of alcohol he’d consumed so far, her absence would be a good thing. He wouldn’t be likely to make a fool of himself if she wasn’t there.

His thoughts drifted to the blue and silver robe that had been set out for him, with the intention of being worn for the festivities. Running a fingertip along the handle of his sword, he wondered what Akira would wear if she attended.

Something conservative? Something revealing? Something which reflected her personality? A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as the colour red came to mind. Red would match her fiery temper and outgoing character, and would be suited to her.

His eyes closed as he pictured her in a tight fitting red dress, low cut at the front with a split up to her thigh. Not the usual attire of the elves, but he’d seen such likes on the human females on his travels, and could picture her dressed in such a way quite easily. Her curved hips and long legs, her ample bust and long, graceful neck-

“What?” he snapped irritably, his eyes flying open as a loud pounding sounded on the door.

“My Lord, do you wish for assistance to prepare yourself for the feast?” a timid voice asked.

He turned to see one of his maids, looking as terrified as she usually did. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the window. “No. I will see to it myself. You may go.”

The door clicked behind him, leaving him in solitude with his thoughts once more.

*****

Long strides carried him through the twisting hallways and corridors of the palace, towards the great hall where the feast was underway. Sounds of jovial laughter and merriment met his ears as he closed the distance, his mood failing to lift as he absorbed the noise.

The guards positioned at the doorway hurriedly opened the double doors and stepped aside, bowing to their King as he swept past.

He stopped, his alert gaze sweeping the room and taking everything in.

Endless amounts of tables had been set up, loaded with food and drink of every description. Elves sat eating, drinking, talking, dancing, or moving around interacting with one another. Music played at an unobtrusive level, the group of musicians stationed towards the rear of the hall.

Coloured lights lit up every crevice, flickering candles cast an ethereal glow, and coloured decorations hung everywhere.

His gaze landed on his place at the main table, where a goblet of wine sat awaiting him, next to the opened bottle. Changing direction, he walked towards his seat, with groups and clusters of elves moving aside to let him through.

He sat in his chair, and several servants hurriedly placed plates of food before him. He disregarded them, twirling the stem of the wine glass between his forefinger and thumb, his intense stare still observing the festivities.

Every ellon and elleth had turned out in their best clothing; fabrics of bold colours and luxury material floated past his vision. Every ellon and elleth wore the customary mask required for the masquerade ball, each one concealing the wearer’s identity.

Thranduil had neglected to wear one.

He found the idea preposterous. As King, everyone knew who he was, and wearing a mask wouldn’t disguise him in any way. His very presence demanded attention and respect, his stance tall and proud, his aura powerful and impossible to ignore.

The evening slowly turned into night.

Glass after glass of wine was set before him, and he finished every one of them. The strong, sweet liquid seemed to calm him, giving him a sense of peace and calmness as he surveyed his people. They were partying like it was their last day in the realm, flitting around between one another, and consuming more wine than food.

His gaze settled on an elleth standing some ways to his left.

She was in deep conversation with another elleth, both dressed impeccably. The one who had caught his attention seemed to unknowingly draw him like a magnet.

Her long dark hair was pulled into a ponytail on top of her head, with long, silky curls flowing down her back like a black waterfall, each curl swaying as she moved. Her shoulders were bare as the dress she had chosen was an off-the-shoulder style in a rich shade of blue silk. The fabric almost caressed her waist before flaring out over her hips and falling elegantly to the floor. She moved her hands as she talked, nodding and laughing at whatever the conversation was about.

His eyes narrowed.

Akira’s hair was a similar colour, although hers was poker straight, and she never once in all her years at the palace wore it up. She never even braided the sides, a trait almost unheard of in the elf communities.

The elleth turned and he had a partial view of her. The mask she wore was the same shade of blue as her gown, covering most of her face from her upper lip upwards.

Thranduil pushed against the table and rose unsteadily to his feet.

Pushing his way through the crowds of drunk elves, he approached her from behind, gripping her wrist.

“Whatever plans you have for this night, cancel them,” he said softly, his lips touching her ear with the briefest of touches. “I have plans for you.”

The elleth didn’t reply, but he sensed her body go rigid.

“Do not worry,” he told her. “I assure you, you are in good hands.”

Whirling her around, he strode towards the doors, keeping his grasp on her wrist. Soft footsteps hurried to keep up with him as he took her through the labyrinth of dimly-lit hallways, coming to a halt outside the royal chambers.

Throwing the door open, he pulled her into the room, where he released her and turned to close and lock the door.

She slowly stepped towards the centre of the large room. The moon shining through the windows lit her surroundings in a soft glow, the space remaining mostly in shadow. She turned to face the imposing figure before her.

He stepped towards her, coming to a stop and lifting one hand to trail a fingertip along her jaw. “You look so like her,” he whispered. “You remind me of her so much.” His finger swept down her throat, coming to a halt at the edge of the dress.

She opened her mouth, but he quickly placed his finger over her lips, shaking his head.

“Do not speak,” he said. “For this night, I wish to believe that it is my true love that I hold in my arms, instead of in my dreams.” He gazed down at her, unable to decipher what colour her eyes were in the moonlight and shadows. “Will you do this one request for your King? Will you be her, for just this one night?”

The elleth stared up at him, caught in both the passion and the heartbreak that showed in his eyes. Her heart thudded rapidly in her chest, her clothing felt too tight, and the air seemed too dense to breathe. His eyes seemed to radiate a maelstrom of emotions as he waited for her answer.

“Will you let me believe that for one night, that I hold my true love?” he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Will you ease the ache that grips my heart tighter and tighter each day? Will you take the loneliness from me?”

Seconds ticked past silently, and she slowly nodded.

Instantly, his mouth crashed down onto hers, kissing her with a deep passion that flowed from him through into her. His arms slid around her waist and pulled her flush against his solid body, his hands sweeping up her back to her shoulders and down again to her waist.

Her hands tangled themselves in his long hair, twisting around the silken strands and pulling him even tighter to her. His tongue pushed past her teeth and explored her mouth, hungry and desperate in his desire to claim her.

Ignoring the swaying feeling caused by the amount of alcohol he’d consumed throughout the evening, he tore his mouth from hers, and allowed it to roam a path down her neck. He bit the soft flesh, gently nipping with sharp teeth and soothing with his tongue.

She shuddered in his arms, the tremble vibrating through into his body. His arms tightened in silent response, and he kissed lower. His mouth ignited little flames with each tender kiss along her shoulder, his wet licks soothing the heat but inflaming the fire within her.

Lifting his head, he relaxed his hold on her, walking slowly round to place himself at her back. Both hands ran down her arms to her hands and back up, his fingertips a soft whisper across her shoulders.

She lifted her hands to remove her mask, but his hands shot over her shoulders and gripped hers.

“Leave it on,” he whispered. “Tonight, you are her.”

Taking a deep breath, she slowly lowered her hands. Behind her, cool air touched her skin as he undid the back of her gown, sliding the soft fabric down over her arms. Again she shuddered, but not from the cold.

A soft rustling noise reached her ears, and she knew he was disrobing himself. An involuntary gasp left her lips as his warm, hard chest pressed against her back, allowing her to feel each breath as he inhaled and exhaled. Solid muscle covered in silky soft skin touched her back, his body heat permeating into her.

She tilted her head back slightly and closed her eyes as his mouth touched soft kisses down her spine, his hands pushing her dress to the floor as he kissed lower.

“You even smell like her,” he whispered, his seductive tone winding through her hazy senses. Warm hands slid down her thighs and back up, caressing over her stomach. He pushed her ponytail aside with his nose, pressing more kisses against her back.

She whimpered as his hands lifted and cupped her breasts, arching her back slightly and pushing herself against his touch. Her knees trembled as his thumbs rubbed up over her nipples, the flesh immediately hardening in response.

“Oh yes,” he murmered, kissing his way back up. “So responsive…”

His mouth closed over an area of skin below her ear, and she cried out in pleasure as he sucked hard, his thumbs still stimulating her aching flesh. She bucked back against him, ever aware of the solid hardness that pressed itself against her lower back. Her breathing started to come in little pants and gasps, the trembling from her knees spreading throughout her body.

He slowly turned her, his mouth meeting hers once more in a deep, lustful kiss as he backed her towards the large bed that dominated the room. The blankets felt as soft as clouds against her back as he lowered her down, his body hovering over hers as he took everything he could from the kiss. Hot tongues wrestled with each other, hands wandered, hair was pulled as the heat between them grew in intensity.

She moaned in disappointment as he broke away, breathing hard as he kissed his way down her body, stopping to take one of her nipples into his mouth with a strong, rhythmic sucking motion. Her body arched up from the bed, her legs entangling with his, her hips moving against his with abandon.

He went lower, sliding down to the bottom of the bed. “I want to taste you,” he whispered, strong hands parting her thighs and holding her wide open. His tongue swept around her core, exploring her without touching her where she needed it most. Again and again he tasted her, pushing inside her and savouring the warm fluid that welcomed him.

She thrashed from side to side, bucking and straining against him, desperate. He grinned, knowing what her body was crying out for, and knowing that he could draw this out the entire night if he wanted to.

He was in control, and she was utterly powerless against him.

Plunging his tongue deep into her, he exerted more force to hold her down as she writhed on the bed before him. Agonisingly slowly, he withdrew and dragged his tongue up over her clitoris.

A loud scream echoed around the room.

He inhaled deeply, satisfied that he had tormented and teased her enough, and that it was only fair that he reward her; she was doing him a huge favour by just being there. He licked around her clit, swiping his tongue across it, rubbing it as she howled and cried for release. She panted hard as he lifted her thighs and settled them over his shoulders. Her toes curled against the warm, smooth skin of his back, feeling his muscles ripple. His hands flattened over her abdomen, holding her down as she moved restlessly.

He altered the pressure of his tongue, changing between soft little licks and more forceful swipes, her clit throbbing in response to him. Her moans and cries floated past him, filtering through the haze the wine had given him, echoing over the sound of his own heartbeat which thumped loudly. His erection throbbed, desperate to be buried deep inside the warm, wet heaven that awaited, but he ignored his body’s desires. Her pleasure was more important to him at this point, and he wanted her to experience everything he was able to give her.

Her hips moved against him in rhythm, her body twisting and turning as she gripped his hair with one hand, and the bedcovers with the other.

She was close.

He rubbed his tongue faster over her clit and felt her thighs tense around him. Another couple of licks and she arched up off the bed with a scream, her hand tightening in his hair and pulling painfully.

He didn’t mind. He hoisted himself up onto his elbows and drew himself up over her body, settling in between her legs. Holding her still with one hand, his mouth ravaged hers as he guided himself into the clenching depths. She spasmed and tightened around him, gripping him as he pushed into her, his breath leaving his lungs with an audible gasp as he buried himself deep inside.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, savouring the exquisite feeling, until her hips began to rock against him in an effort to mate. He responded with slow, rolling thrusts that went deep. Her tongue danced with his in a sensual kiss that sent blasts of lust through him, pushing him to move faster within her.

He rolled over onto his back, his hands settling on her hips as he pushed up into her. She threw her head back and moaned loudly at the change in depth, her hands braced on his chest as she moved with him. He leaned his head back and panted hard as he dug his heels into the bedcovers for more purchase, his lungs working overtime to give him the air that he needed.

Her movements became too much for him to bear, and he quickly flipped her over onto her back again. His fists planted on either side of her as he pounded harder, sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades. His muscles strained and tightened as he fought to gain the control which was rapidly disappearing from his grasp. Her hands wandering sensually up and down his sides only fuelled his desire, so he grabbed her wrists in a tight grasp and pinned them to the bed on either side of her head.

She whimpered as she drew her knees up higher. His thrusts went deeper. Her back arched, her breasts pushing against the solid wall of his heaving chest. Lowering his head, he kissed a path from her neck to her left breast, where he sucked hard on the inner curve of soft flesh. Her body seemed to engulf in flames. Nothing else in the world mattered while the God that was the King was in her arms, in her body, making it touch heights she’d never even dreamed of.

His control vanished.

Her tight body dragged him down the narrowing path towards his orgasm, and the world started to spin around him. He crushed her mouth under his, breathing hard through his nose as waves of pleasure crashed higher and higher. He absorbed her cries of passion, her moans and whimpers. The grip on her wrists tightened as every part of his body flexed in preparation for the ultimate release. His knees dug into the softness of the bedcover beneath them as he pushed harder.

She flipped her feet up and crossed them over his waist as his thrusts started to lose rhythm, tightening to hold him in place as his body went rigid. A long, deep roar met her ears as she felt a blast of wet warmth soak her insides, and he trembled violently for a few seconds before collapsing over her.

His hold on her gradually relaxed, and she slowly lowered her arms to slide across his shoulders, holding him in a tender embrace as he fought for breath. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and was astounded to taste salty tears.

Abruptly, he pulled out of her and rolled away, presenting his back to her.

She lay still for a moment, before hesitantly placing her palm against the smooth, warm flesh.

“Akira,” he whispered.

The elleth froze.

“I have done her a dishonour, doing this,” he said, still in a hushed whisper. “Forgive me, Akira. Forgive me, my love.”

Stunned eyes blinked in the darkness, astounded by the name of the one who the King had fallen so deeply in love with.

Soft sounds of heartfelt crying could be heard in the otherwise silent room.

“Get dressed and leave,” Thranduil said, forcing his voice to function the way it should. “And speak to no-one of this.”

The elleth slowly moved from the bed, gathering her discarded dress and stepping into it. Hot tears burned her eyes and slid down her cheeks, soaking the mask that she wore. But she remained silent.

Risking a final glance at the King, she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands; despair and shame radiating from his posture. She knew there was nothing she could do or say, so she silently left the room. The door closed with a click that seemed to echo down the stone corridor in the silence.

She stood for a few moments, gathering herself together emotionally and spiritually. Everything she had grown up to believe in had been shattered in a single moment. She started to walk away from the royal chambers, coming to a sudden stop in fright as she heard a roar of anger and a resounding smash coming from the room she had just vacated.

Anguished sobs followed.

She walked away into the darkness.

*****

The following morning brought a pounding headache and a deep sense of exhaustion. Many of the elves slept late, not wanting to face the harsh light of day after the festivities had carried on well into the night.

Thranduil was in a foul temper.

Shame had flooded through him the second he’d opened his eyes, vivid memories of what he’d done through the night rushing back to him. Memories of seducing and kissing an elleth, of removing her clothing, of burying himself deep inside her welcoming body as he’d fought to control his desires.

He’d declined breakfast, seating himself instead with hot tea and freshly squeezed orange juice. Various elves and staff had gradually filtered in for something to eat, disappearing again complaining of hangovers.

His eyes drifted over to the main doorway as another group entered.

Heart pounding, he realised that the one at the front was his aide, Akira.

Heat flooded through him, and he cast his eyes downwards.

“Good morning,” she said, walking towards him.

He glared at her. “Bad night?” he snapped, irritated.

Her face remained impassive as she pulled a seat out, lowering herself onto it. “I have had worse nights,” she replied. “You?”

He grunted, looking away from her. “You did not attend the feast,” he said. It was a statement, rather than a question.

She didn’t reply, instead requesting some fresh toast and tea from one of the servants.

The atmosphere around the table was tense, and she was unsure whether to pursue the conversation. She leaned her forearms on the surface, deciding to stay quiet.

Thranduil scowled at the top of the table. “I assume you have a sore head, like everyone else around here this day,” he said. His tone was harsh, angry.

“Why should I? You have said I did not attend,” she answered. “You obviously enjoyed yourself.”

His head rose sharply. “What makes you think that?”

“Your delightful frame of mind,” she retorted. “You are full of the joys this morning.”

“Sarcasm does not become you,” he told her crossly. “Remember to whom you speak.”

She threw him a glare. “I prefer not to speak at all,” she said.

“Good.” He folded his arms, leaning back in his seat with a deep scowl.

Akira smiled in thanks at the servant who appeared at her side, setting the toast and tea that she had requested before her. She took a sip of her tea before beginning to eat, ever aware of the volatile ruler who sat a few seats away.

“What do you have planned for this day?” he asked. “A hot bath?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “What?”

He smirked. “Nothing.”

She slammed her toast back onto the plate. “What did you mean by that?”

He shrugged. “Not a thing. You just appeared to be a little uncomfortable, that is all.”

“How dare you,” she hissed. “What I do in my free time is my business.”

Again, that annoying smirk.

She’d had enough, and pushed herself to her feet. “If you will excuse me, there are other places I could be,” she said. “Places where I will not have to be subjected to your vile mood.”

“Sit,” he commanded, his tone making those nearby glance over.

She glared at him, before turning and walking away.

“Akira!” he shouted angrily, rising to his feet.

She ignored him and kept walking. Exiting through the dining room doors, she stormed along the passageway, fury radiating through her.

She gasped in fright as a tight grip grabbed her arm, shoving her though an open doorway, and whirled round to face a furious King. He spun her round and slammed her hard against the door which he had booted closed.

“You do _not_ go against my orders, and you do _not_ ignore me,” he hissed, his face inches from her own.

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he was too strong, holding her arm over her head against the wood.

“If I order you to do some-“ He broke off abruptly, his gaze on the wrist he held.

His face changed, his lips parting slowly.

Fresh bruises marked the soft flesh.

He blinked slowly, as if in a trance, and lifted her other arm.

It had identical bruises.

Horrified eyes met hers.

She held his gaze, refusing to flinch.

Seconds ticked past, the atmosphere thick and heavy.

As quick as a flash, he released her arms and gripped the front of her tunic, ripping the fabric.

There on the swell of her left breast, dark purple, was a fresh bruise.

A bite mark.

He slowly backed away from her, a look of horror in his eyes. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No. No…”

She clenched her teeth and breathed hard, pulling the tattered fabric back into place.

He continued to back away, coming to a stop as he bumped against the large wooden desk in the middle of the floor.

“It cannot be,” he whispered.

“Bad night?” she snapped, throwing his earlier words at him.

“This cannot be real,” he gasped. He dragged both hands through his hair, turning in a circle as he tried to make sense of what was happening. “This cannot be true! You did not…you never…”

“I follow your orders,” she bit back. “You ordered me not to speak, you ordered me not to remove the mask. I obeyed.”

Tears filled his eyes.

A tremble took root in her body, and she felt like her legs were going to give way. Leaning her full weight against the door, she continued to breathe hard, not taking her eyes from his.

“Please tell me I did not…” He trailed off again, shaking his head in despair.

“Yes, you did,” she said, her voice breaking. “You took what you wanted and told me to leave.”

“Oh my God,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. “Akira…I…I do not know what to say…”

“I do not think that there is anything you can say, other than any warm, willing body will do when you are determined enough,” she said. Her eyes burned with tears, her heart twisted.

He frantically shook his head. “No, no,” he insisted, his tears falling. “It was not like that…please believe me…”

She took a deep breath, turning to lean her side against the door, wrapping her arms across her middle. Her own tears trickled down her face, spurred on by the raw emotion he was showing her, and the heartbreak she was feeling inside.

Thranduil turned his body to face the window, his head lowered in shame and grief. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to disrespect you, or to shame you.”

Taking several shuddery breaths, she pushed herself away from the door and approached him, tugging on his arm to turn him in her direction. Anguished, tear-filled eyes met hers, his heartache evident.

“You did not shame me,” she whispered, settling her left hand against his cheek. “I chose to respond. Sometimes a little bit of something is better than nothing at all.”

“What are you saying, Akira?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

She swallowed. “I am saying that I love you, and I do not regret what we did,” she said.

He gazed down at her, seeing both fear and anguish in her. “I have loved you for years and years,” he whispered. “I have always loved you.”

He slid his hands under her jaw, tipping her head up as his mouth softly caressed hers, their tears transferring between them. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, tugging him closer as the kiss changed and deepened. Her mouth opened under his and invited him in to explore, which he immediately responded to. A deep groan left her as his tongue swept inside; seeking, searching, claiming her as his. His hands threaded through her hair, holding her still as he devoured her, his anger having changed to anguish, and now having transitioned to passion.

“I need you,” he whispered raggedly, breaking the kiss to gaze down at her.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her breathing irregular.

“I need you too,” she replied, unfastening his tunic. Her mouth met his again as her hands explored the solid muscles underneath, the ache between her legs flaring to life again.

He swiftly lifted her and turned, using one arm to sweep the desk free of paperwork and assorted items that had been left there. Everything crashed to the floor, and a glass smashed as it bounced off the stone.

Lowering her down onto the polished surface, he wriggled in between her thighs as she opened them to give him room, fumbling to undo the laces on his trousers and free himself.

“Now, Thranduil, now,” she gasped, feeling his moist tip rub against her. Her head tipped back with a groan as he began to push inside.

“No,” he said, tilting her head forwards again. “I want to look into your eyes this time. I want you to know that I love you, and to know what we have between us. No more masks, no more hiding.”

She bit her lower lip as he thrust into her, her fingers gripping his upper arms. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he couldn’t resist leaning closer and flicking his tongue along the indentations her bite had left behind. Her hips rose to meet his, every powerful thrust sending her spinning further out into an orbit of untold pleasure. The unyielding wooden desk offered no comfort, but she had all the comfort she needed in his arms. She twisted and turned beneath him, deepening their kiss, deepening their contact and their connection.

“I love you so much, Akira,” he panted, tearing free and gazing down at her. “I love you _so_ much…”

“I love you too,” she gasped, her legs tightening their hold around his hips. “Thranduil…I’m coming…”

He grinned, pushing even deeper as his mouth merged with hers once more, silencing her cries as she orgasmed around him. Deep groans rumbled from his chest as he pounded after her, finding his own release within a few seconds, and his arms gave way.

She turned her face against his neck, gasping for air, as his body shuddered and trembled against her. Her insides clenched around his still-solid length, determined not to let him go.

Eventually he lifted his head from her shoulder with a soft chuckle. “As amazing as this is, my darling, I have to move,” he told her. “My back will seize if I stay in this position for much longer.”

She smiled, accepting his tender kiss as he slowly withdrew and settled her long skirts back into position as he took her hand and helped her to sit. He sighed to himself as he pulled his trousers back into place.

“I _am_ sorry for last night,” he said quietly. “What happened should not have happened in such a way. I know that, and I am ashamed of what I did. I am not ashamed of you,” he added as her eyes met his. “I am ashamed at the way I acted. You did not deserve that…you are too special, and too precious to me.”

He lifted one hand and caressed her cheek, and she turned her head to kiss his palm.

“I know how drunk you were,” she replied. “I was not completely sober myself. And like I said – I would have taken that little piece of heaven rather than have nothing at all.”

He took her hands and pulled her to her feet, closing the gap between them and softly touching his lips to hers in a tender kiss. “Will you be with me?” he whispered. “Will you be mine, and belong only to me? Will you take care of my heart? Will you stand at my side each and every day, and sleep at my side each and every night?”

A tear rolled down her cheek as she closed her eyes briefly.

Standing on her toes, she pressed her mouth to his again. “Yes,” she whispered. “Always.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
